I clear my throat and attempt a smile, but to my horror, the dam breaks on all of the emotions—both good and bad—that have been plaguing me for the past month. Heck, probably the past nine months.
No longer hesitant, he steps up to me and pulls my face to his chest. “Hey, hey. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing!” I say, not certain if that’s the truth, since I’m not sure why I’m crying, to begin with. I just know it feels good. And humiliating. I wish I’d been able to get this out of my system before he got home. But I was still in such shock. It took seeing him, his smile, his unsure eyes… Those effing eyes! How am I going to manage a lifetime with this guy and those eyes?
Weaving his fingers through the back of my hair, he gently massages my neck at the base of my skull. “Oh, man. Your answer’s no, isn’t it?”
“No!” I try to pull my head up to look him in the face, but he’s stronger than I am, stronger than he must realize.
“Okay, but it’s not ‘yes,’ right? It’s still ‘not yet.’ But Colin didn’t want me to look like an idiot on national television, so he texted ‘yes.’”
“Jet, no. That’s not—”
“Gosh. What a nice guy.”
Finally, I manage to use my entire body to push away from my fiancé and say, “My answer is really yes.”
The color I didn’t realize had left his cheeks returns, and he exhales so hard I worry about his lungs. “Oh, whew! When you started crying, I thought you didn’t—”
I swipe at my tears. “I don’t know why I started crying. I mean, I did when it all first happened, but since then, I’ve been numb.”
“Numb? That’s not good.”
“I guess I still can’t believe you did that. And that Rae and Colin and all those guys were in on it with you. And that not a single one of you realized what a horrible idea that was.” I laugh, so he does, too, looking relieved.
Pulling me against him once more, his hands against my lower back, he asks down at me, “Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“Not even a little bit?”
I shake my head.
“Okay. Then it was my idea.”
“And if I had hated it?”
“Then it was Rae’s idea.”
I brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Marry me?”
“After that.”
“Live happily ever after with me?”
I close one eye and look toward my forehead. “Before that.”
He cups my butt in his hands and bends at the knees. “I have a few ideas,” he murmurs, his breath feathering against my lips.
I laugh. “Yeah. Well, you’ll get back to me on that in about three months, right?”
“How about three minutes?”
“Don’t tease me, Number Fourteen.”
“Does it feel like I’m joking?”
No, it does not. Not at all. That’s a serious appendage.
Still, I check. “So, like that, the rule you follow so religiously—unless you’re on the DL—is a thing of the past? Or is this a one-time-only reprieve? Because I don’t want your pity or your charity. If you’re tough enough to go without, I am, too. I’d prefer not to fall off the wagon and have to start all over again.”
His head drops back, and he laughs at the ceiling. When he lowers his eyes to mine again, they’re dancing. “Wow. This is quite the one-eighty you’ve made on this rule. I figured you had a bet running with Rae about how soon I’d crack.”
“I know you better than that. You’re stubborn, like… like a horse!”
“A horse, huh? Like Warpaint?”
Assuming a strong Southern accent, I answer, “Why, yes, as a matter of fact, you big stud.”
He nuzzles my neck. “Mmmm. Someone mega-smart once showed me the results of a study that said my rule might be complete and utter horse hockey.”
“Well, I declare! And what did you make of that?”
“I think we need to do our own study and test that hypothesis. Extensively.”
“My stars! It gives me the vapors when you talk scientific.”
He snorts against my neck but catches himself before losing a grip on his amusement. When he lifts his head, and I flutter my eyelashes at him, he almost cracks up again.
I’m right there with him, not sure how much longer I can keep this up, but I manage to choke out, “I’m still waitin’ on an answer, Professor Hoss.”
We both collapse into giggles at that improvised detail. Breathless, he grips my forearms and bends at the waist, laughing at his shoes. “Oh, damn. I was okay until ‘Professor Hoss.’”
I recover more quickly and, dabbing at my eyes, resume character. “Now, Professor, we ain’t got no time for silliness. This is serious work. For science.”
He stands at his full height and transfers his hands from my arms to my face. The smile still plays on his lips, but his eyes are earnest as they roam my features, and he says, “I love you, Maura Richards, and I can’t wait to be your husband, to come home to you after every win, after every loss, after each grueling practice or press conference or public appearance.”
“Aww. Bless your heart!”
“I meant what I said to that reporter. You inspire me to be better, to work harder, to play smarter. You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel like I’m more than just an arm. Out at The Ranch, when you said I had heart…” The corners of his mouth turn down, and he blinks rapidly. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone to see that.”
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his chin but keep the Horse Lady accent to prevent any more crying. “I saw it right away, the minute you sat down next to the saddest, most pathetic, loneliest party guest and tried to cheer her right up.”
“My heart may not have been the only thing at play there.”
Smacking his chest, I say in my normal voice, “Big talker.”
“And when you
